Bossed By The Boggart: A Monster Romance (Monstrous Meet Cutes) by Wendi Gogh

Author:Wendi Gogh [Gogh, Wendi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monster Heart Ink
Published: 2024-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BASH

Bash

It’s difficult to concentrate on the menu when Wyn sits across me, a gorgeous angel without wings.

She grumbles as she scans the items as if glaring will turn the words to English.

“What else is there besides steak? Is this homard en croûte du sel tasty?”

“Eh, it’s not as delicious as your cum, but it’s still pretty good.”

Wyn chokes on her wine, torn between laughter and horror.

“Stop it! We’re in public.”

“Semi-public,” I correct as my tail snakes out to graze her arm.

She jolts in her seat. “Behave!”

“Yes, ma’am. So the homard is lobster in a salt crust. They take a whole lobster and encase it in a hard salt crust before baking it—which locks in the natural flavors.”

“Oh, well, that sounds almost as delicious as your cum.”

Now it’s my turn to choke. My sawolkeh wears an innocent expression, but mischief dances in her gaze.

Brat.

Just as I’m about to tell her exactly what I do to mouthy little things like her, our waiter walks over.

“Are we ready?”

I glance at Wyn with a raised eyebrow, and she nods.

“Ladies first.”

“Thank you. I’ll have the homard en croûte du sel, please.”

“Excellent choice, mademoiselle. And what would you like, monsieur?”

“I’ll have the coq au vin, s’il vous plaît.”

“Very good. Would either of you like to start with an appetizer?”

“The foie gras is exceptional—would you like to try it?”

Again, she nods, and the waiter makes a note before leaving us alone once more.

While we wait, Wyn tells me a story about Jake and another student from his school.

We’re both laughing when the waiter arrives with our foie gras and two smaller plates.

Wyn helps herself, scooping some onto a cracker.

Her eyes roll upward when she bites into the silky, smooth texture.

“Oh my, it’s so rich and buttery—what is this?”

“Goose liver.”

Instead of making a face of disgust, she licks her lips, and my tarse twitches.

“Well, it’s delicious.”

“Please, take as much as you like.”

“And what about you?”

“Honestly? I’m enjoying watching you eat.”

She blushes, and the blood surges to the spot between my legs.

“You’re making it difficult to concentrate.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

I chuckle. “Guilty as charged. I guess you’ll need to distract me from my naughty thoughts.”

“How so?”

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Wyn tucks a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear.

“Did you know I was raised on a reservation?”

“I did not.”

“Yep, Standing Rock. I grew up in Fort Yates, just north of the South and North Dakota border. My family is part of the Húŋkpapĥa tribe. My great-grandpa was one of the tribe elders.”

Although I’m fascinated and want to know more, the taste of Wyn’s pain is becoming unbearable.

“Deoring, we don’t have to speak of this if you don’t wish. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

She tries to smile, but her lips wobble. “You’re right. I only meant to share something about me, but it’s my fault. Any time I think of my past, it makes me sad. How about you? Tell me more about Boggarts.”

“I fear my past is much like your own—riddled in sorrow. Boggarts are characteristically cruel creatures with no regard for humans.

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